


Last Call

by theimaginesyouneveraskedfor



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, but enjoy, i kinda hate myself now, request, then this is the fic for you, y'all want a dark chubby thor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 11:37:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20081578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theimaginesyouneveraskedfor/pseuds/theimaginesyouneveraskedfor
Summary: The reader deals with an unruly bar patron.Warnings: noncon sex, mentions of death and grieving, blood/violence.This is dark!(chubby)Thor and explicit. 18+ only.





	Last Call

**Author's Note:**

> I mean fuck what I said about chubby Thor because I’ve made him quite despicable in this and I’m sorry. This one’s pretty rough so please keep in mind warnings and avoid if you aren’t into more brutal scenes.
> 
> Please let me know your thoughts in the comments <3
> 
> LAST WARNING TO HEED THE DISCLAIMERS ABOVE!

The small fishing village was quiet before the event. Before half the residents dissolved to dust. Even after the arrival of the peoples that called themselves Asgardian, it was grim. The waters were darker, even colder than before. The streets silent; empty.

The only place with a sign of life was the tavern. Here, those who were left gathered but rarely talked. Everyone had lost someone. Family, friends, neighbours, pets, even. The world was grey in communal mourning. What was left but alcohol and denial?

You and Anders were the only bartenders left. You took the closing shift as he was usually too drunk to lock up by the end of the night. Like any other, he was coping the only way he knew how; the easiest way. You couldn’t blame him, any of them.

You felt a stab of guilt when you thought of it. If one were to ask who you’d lost, you wouldn’t know what to say. You hadn’t lost anyone in the snap. You had lost them before and that wasn’t the same. You chose to turn your back on them, chose to turn recluse on the nordic shores. They didn’t have a choice, you did.

It was a quiet night. Tuesdays usually were. Anders had already stumbled out. Twenty minutes till close. Last call. A single figure left in the corner. Quiet, brooding, the usual display of the grief-stricken.

He’d been there for most of the night. Hidden in shadows as he ordered pint after pint. Anders had been serving him while you manned the bar. You could barely see him through the shadows. The fireplace he sat beside had died an hour ago.

You announced last call and grabbed a cloth. You wiped down the bar as you heard the floorboards creak. The wood shifted under his heavy footsteps and he planted his empty glass before you. 

“I’ll take another.” He slurred.

You filled a glass and set in on the bar. You took his old one and rinsed it. You turned back and added the pint to his tab. 

“Settle up?” You asked.

He reached in his pocket and pulled out a wad of bills. He tossed them on the bar and plopped on the stool. He took the glass and drained half of it in a single gulp. His pale blue eyes narrowed as he watched you count out what he owed and slid back the rest.

“Keep the change, I suppose,” He muttered. His gaze was unwavering as you put the money in the till and resumed your duties. He slowly collected his money and left a single bill on the bartop. “A drink for you, barkeep.”

“No thanks,” You said softly, “I don’t drink.”

“Everyone drinks these days,” He pushed the bill towards you. “To the lost!" 

He raised his glass and emptied it. He slammed it back on the wood and you picked up the cash and held it out to him. He frowned.

"Really, I don’t, but thank you,” You waited and he finally snatched the bill back and tucked it away in his pocket.

His long golden dreads dragged across his shoulders as he belched into his large hand. He scratched his beard as you took his empty glass and rinsed it. He watched you intently.

“Closing in ten,” You warned. 

“Yeah,” He grumbled, “You got someone to get home to?”

You stopped and looked at him. “Do you?”

“Does anyone?” He countered. “Before?” He leaned on the bar as you tidied up the bottles on the shelves. “Did you?”

“Never really did,” You answered curtly, “I’m as alone now as I was then.” You tidied up the trash along the back counter and he sighed. “You?”

“Ironically, didn’t lose much after,” He chuckled darkly and you turned back to dump your handful in the bin. “My home, my people, my brother…” He smacked his hand across the bar and snarled. “Everything!”

You nodded. “I’m sorry. I know it’s hard.” You were used to these outbursts. “I think maybe you should go sleep it off.”

He stared at you. “I’m not drunk,” He declared and you held back an annoyed huff. 

“Very well, but we_ are _closing…” You checked the clock, “In two minutes.”

“How would you know?” He asked sharply. You shook your head in confusion. “How would you know it’s hard when you didn’t lose anything?”

“I did. Neighbours, co-worker–”

“Nothing,” He spat as he stood. He towered over you even from the other side of the bar. “Those people you left behind before, do you even care if they’re gone? Hmm? You don’t know loss.”

“You need to leave,” You said calmly, “I’m locking up now.”

He laughed and pushed back his hair. “Make me.”

“What are you? A child?” You challenged. “Now go.”

He glanced away as he thought. His lips curved beneath his thick beard. You shook your head and reached under the bar. A flash and smoke rose from the wood just beside your hand. The pistol hidden there fell to the floor; melted and deformed.

“Leave,” Your voice quavered and you winced.

“You don’t know how hard it is. You can’t,” He growled. “To wake up everyday and know that you failed. That all those lives, of those you loved, those you never even knew, are gone because of you.”

“Look, I _don’t _know, okay? But you need to go.” You backed up and felt around. There was a knife somewhere. The one you used to chop lemons. “Now.”

He shook his head and pushed back his shoulders. He walked slowly around the end of the bar. You rushed to the end and pulled down the blockade. He placed his hand on it and you brought the knife down. He was fast.

His hand stopped you from dislodging the knife and he squeezed until you let go. He grabbed it with his other and pulled it from the wood. He tightened his grip on your wrist and pressed the blade to your throat. Carefully he sliced just hard enough to bleed but not deep enough to hurt.

You stared back at him. Unmoving. He tilted his head and removed the knife from your neck. He plunged it as deep as he could into the wood. The handle snapped and feel into pieces. He grabbed your other wrist and you planted your heels. You tried to free yourself but he dragged you easily across the blockade.

“Stop! Get off me!” You screamed. “Help! Somebody." 

He spun and tossed you against the wall. The air was knocked from you. You wheezed and clung to the wood as you tried to stay on your feet.

"Even if someone heard, you think they’ll help?” He snarled. “They’re all too drunk and selfish now.”

You pushed yourself away from the wall and he swiftly kicked his foot out to trip you. You fell to the floor with an _oomph_ and your breath rushed from you again. You turned and got to your hands and knees as you rasped and tried to get away.

He followed behind you. Taunting your pathetic attempt at escape. He kicked you over and you fell heavily onto your back. He put his foot on your chest and pressed down.

“That’s right. Crawl, bitch.” He pulled his foot away and you gulped for air. “I said crawl!” You slowly got back to your hands and knees. He rounded you and tsked at you like a cat. “Over here, kitty.”

You followed him, your lungs burned horribly and your ribs ached. As you neared, he bent and pulled you to your feet by your arm. His other hand was at your throat and he squeezed as you slapped his arm and struggled to breathe. He was going to kill you.

He let go and spun you around. He shoved you against the stool so hard you barely kept from hitting your head on the bar. You tried to stand but he pushed you back down. 

“Stay.” He barked and his hand lingered on the small of your back. 

His large fingers slipped down and he cupped your ass. He squeezed and pushed his body against you. His other hand hooked under your hip and he lifted you so that your stomach rested on the stool. You kicked out and he grabbed the back of your head, forcing it sharply into the bar.

Your ears rang and your vision swirled. You clung to the stool, a hand on the edge of the bar top as your skull throbbed. You struggled not to slip from the stool, your toes along the crossbar and your arm around the seat below you.

He grabbed the waist of your jeans and pulled until the metal button fell loose against the stool. He snaked his hand beneath you and tugged until the zipper split. The stool wobbled dangerously as he tore your pants down, your panties twisting along with them.

You clung to the bar with your other hand and tried to draw yourself away from him. He held you in place by your jeans, your thighs trapped together by the stiff denim. 

“Let me go,” You murmured. The effort of speaking made your head ache. “Please.”

“Shut up!” He roared and once more cracked your head against the edge of the bar. Your nose met the wood with a sickening crunch. You felt the blood swell as your head lolled forward and tasted the metallic tinge along your lips. “This is the world now. We all lose something…Ourselves.”

He smacked your ass so hard you yiped. You could feel his round stomach along your lower back as he pushed himself against you. He snatched a hank of your hair and lifted your head as the blood dribbled down your neck.

“This is what we’ve become,” His hand moved between your ass and his pelvis. 

You trembled and weakly hung from his grasp as a sob caught in your throat. You felt his cock against your bare ass and you gulped. You nearly choked on your blood as your entire body went cold.

“I haven’t felt anything since. It’s nothing. Just day after day after day,” His rough fingers spread over your ass as he spoke. “Can’t even get hard.” He wiggled and his cock tickled along your skin. “Til now.”

You whimpered as he pulled his hand away and pressed the head of his cock against you. He wrenched your head back so that you were forced to arch your back and guided himself to your entrance.

“Don’t do this,” You rasped as you wiped away the blood streaming from your nose. You were certain you’d only smeared it across your cheek. “You don’t have–”

Your voice died as he pushed inside without warning. You reached back to claw at his hand tangled in your hair and he sank to his limit in a single motion. You hissed and slapped at his grip, your feet threatening to slip from the crossbar.

He grunted and pulled back only to slam in with enough force to make the stool shake. Your blood turned sticy between your hands as your other held onto the stool. He thrust again and you gasped.

“Gods,” He uttered as he kept his motion unyielding.

The stool jostled beneath you as he pulled on your head, further and further until only your feet barely touched the stool. He poked your cervix painfully as he pressed himself against you, his free hand kneaded your thigh and his nails dug into your flesh.

Your entire body shook as he fucked you. He was vicious. As if punishing you. His hand slipped from the back of your head to your throat and he pulled you against him. His stomach rubbed against your arched back as only your feet remained on the stool. The slender crossbar felt as if it would break.

Blood trickled down your throat as you gasped for breath. His hand tightened as he felt you gulp for air. Your head swam and you closed your eyes as your let your arms fall limp. He rutted into you, a snarl marked each violent thrust.

You were sore, battered. From head to toe. Your entire body ached and your pussy thrummed. His flesh clapped against your ass, the flesh raw and tender. The tears stung your eyes as your nerves wound to a point and you shuddered in shame at the heat that flowed through your veins.

He growled as he felt the sudden gush and your walls pulsed around him. He sped up and he snaked his arm around you. He tore the vee of your shirt down to your stomach. The band of your bra burned your skin as he snapped it, too. He grabbed your tit and squeezed as his pace picked up again.

“Fucking–bitch!” He exclaimed and came with a spasm. 

His hips slowed as he rode out his climax, his hand even tighter around your neck. He bottomed out as he sighed in relief and reluctantly let go of you. He pulled out and let you drop against the stool.

The stool wobbled beneath you and toppled as he stepped back. You splayed across the floor as another fell beside you. You coughed and rolled onto your side as blood filled your mouth.

He chuckled and you heard the subtle snap of elastic. You shakily sat up and cradled your nose as you looked up at him. His cock was already tucked away, a wet spot forming along the front of his pants.

His cum dripped from you and you got to your knees as you pulled your jeans up with a shudder. To hide yourself. To hide your shame as he stretched the crick out of his neck and settled on another stool, elbows on the bar. 

You stared at him as you moved in haze. The shock clouded around you and filled your lungs. You stood and stumbled. He smirked and tapped his fingers on the wood. 

“I’ll take another pint before I go.”


End file.
